


(Mostly) Silent Confessions

by Clueingforlooks221B



Category: Villainous (Cartoon)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Paperhat - Freeform, even if he doesn't fully admit his thoughts aloud, he's still sappy af in this, sappy Black Hat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-16
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2019-02-03 07:10:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12743496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clueingforlooks221B/pseuds/Clueingforlooks221B
Summary: Something I wrote for @shadowonthefullmoon on Tumblr :) Here was the request:"For the requests, may I request some fluff? Something like, BH and Flug have a lazy sweet morning in bed?"





	(Mostly) Silent Confessions

Getting Flug to sleep is like rain occurring during a drought, an absolute miracle. 

Flug overworks himself, and using the word overwork is a bleak understatement. Like calling a thunderstorm a light drizzle, “overwork” hardly touches the surface of the definition that applies to the inventor. It’s a helpful adjective, if anything. 

He works to the point of abandoning basic human needs, so buried in his work that he doesn't even do so on purpose. He drops his whole brain into his work, zoning out hunger and sleep until it literally sweeps under his feet. 

If Black Hat had a dollar for every time he has found the doctor knocked out cold from his stomach coiling around his thin ribs, or from the darkness under his eyes swallowing his brain, then Black Hat wouldn't need to charge his clients anymore. 

Lucky for the doctor, Black Hat needs his performance levels high. If he worked for any other villain, he would have, accidentally, killed himself within the second week of working. Between 5.0.5, all the bots, and Black Hat, the doctor stays fed and… well, rested enough. 

It’s not just reminding the doctor to sleep, but the act of getting him to do so! It’s worse than a child! The doctor doesn't cough much of an attitude, he’s just restless. He tosses and turns for hours, fingers itching and mouth bubbling out all the work he has to do. And when there are no inventions he needs to be working on, he’s creating more in his head! 

At first Black Hat figured thinking so much would tire the doctor out, because work is something that relaxes him. Yet it only serves to bumble around in his brain like caffeine, winding up his limbs more and more unfixed until he’s attempting to sneak out of bed. Rambling on about how he needs to fill out a blueprint while he remembers everything, and all the materials he’s going to need. Already pinpointing where things can go wrong, and extra steps he’ll have to take to ensure perfection. 

Black Hat’s had to tie him down to his bed countless times, and not in ways he planned on it ever going. It would take Flug hours to fall asleep, but regardless it was a win because he would eventually do so. 

However Flug, his brilliant scientist, quickly learned how to wiggle himself out of the ropes. Whether it be his own wits, or the small concealed weapons he started bringing to bed. 

So— when Black Hat doesn't feel like tying tighter knots, or in more complicated designs— he turned to physically holding the doctor down; no matter how much Flug lightly ensures he isn’t going anywhere, Black Hat has learned not to trust a fatigue Flug.

Honestly! If Black Hat didn’t care so much he would have just let Flug fling himself into unconscious insanity and hallucinations to the point where he is bumbling himself along to Death’s doors.

But once again the doctor doesn’t realize how fortunate he is. As time has gone on, Black Hat became more than merely acquainted with the stages of Flug’s sleep deprivation. It started when he started to really care about paying attention, and not passing the scientist’s needs off to 5.0.5 or the bots. 

Now he knows the signs and is able to catch Flug just as he is falling, moments away from passing out. To have him in his arms when he is not still obtaining a few brain cells to string together watered-down concepts. Purely stupid ideas with gaping holes, and lines that shouldn't even be crossing! Something only a fatigue Flug would think is a brilliant idea. Demencia’s nicknamed this stage “drunk science”. Black Hat calls it an absolute waste of both their times and of the lab materials. 

Black Hat used to sedate Flug when he would reach this stage; but now that their dynamics and relationship has changed, he learned that it’s not an acceptable thing to do anymore… sadly. However, he realized that there’s much funner tactics to wearing his doctor out. 

Black Hat smirks, his fingers stilling in between the blonde wavy strands of the doctor’s hair. His claws tangled softly around the frizzy cotton candy texture of his hair, and the palm of his hand nestling the side of the inventor’s scorching skull. He’s been petting him in his sleep absentmindedly, still not even fully aware of what he is doing. Black Hat’s pupil is waxy from plummeting deep into the crevices of his mind, his usual state when Flug sleeps. Black Hat doesn't need rest. He can sleep, he just doesn’t often because he doesn’t need it to function. 

Besides, sleeping to him is more of a mindset that takes some time to reach that point. 

Black Hat lower lip digs into his upper one, fangs popping out. His fingers still once more, tugging slightly through the strands. The doctor moans slightly, a small frown lingering on his chapped lips. He turns his head slightly, further into Black Hat’s chest. His body that’s drawn into a ball tightens, and his shoulder strains more towards his boss. 

Black Hat doesn’t notice the motions, his thoughts too loud. 

And the lightness in his bones and the fogginess of his mind afterwards of falling into that sleep-like state is so… temporary, and-

“Please let me braid his hair.” The pure pitch of her voice kicks the remaining thoughts that send thick heat into his, plumping, veins straight out of his ears. The stark consonants bounce around in his head, each echo lodging shards of ice into his stomach. Tensing him and bending his numbing fingers into fists. 

Black Hat whips his, blind, attention from the ceiling to Demencia, everything in the room crashing and swaying around the vivid outline of her. She's lounging besides his bed, her jagged teeth glowing around the mahogany in the room. Breaking the shadows around her pale face, and illuminating her reptile iris. 

Her nails are buried in Flug’s hair now, nudging Black Hat’s hand fully off his skull. Starting from his forehead she’s raking his hair back, tugging on the ends to watch Flug’s neck decline back. His Adam’s apple bobs slightly, his eyes beginning to slightly scrunch. The back of his head is being driven into the palm of her hand, and she lolls him from side to side, lips stretching around her fangs. 

The doctor groans slightly, upper lip sinking into his bottom one. 

“GET. OUT.” Black Hat speaks between clenched teeth, rising as high as he can without disturbing the doctor’s head that is in his chest. Which isn't at all far. 

Demencia only comes closer, snickering. At least this time she has the courtesy to do so under her breath. 

But of course, courtesy should never be a term used in the same sentence with Demencia. 

She pocks his cheeks with the pad of her pointer finger, giggling as she watches it sink into his skin. 

Chomping away at the screech bursting up his throat, he swallows that energy into the room’s shadows. Simultaneously they erupt, smoke coughing off the edges of them. 

He cuts off her scream just in time by slamming the shadow of his bedside lamp over her mouth. The remaining shadows in the room slam her out of the door in one hard swift motion. 

He isn't satisfied until he hears crashing down the stairs. 

Mutely snapping the shadows back into place he smirks, using his back to shuffle back down into the bed. He props himself up against the wooden headrest again, his ebony pillow supporting his upper back. 

His fingers sprawl, resting inches above the doctor’s head. 

And now, well, he has to touch the doctors hair to fix it. It’s frizzier and matted, uprooted in all directions and contaminated from that girl’s hand! He knows she never washes it, and it is latched in the sticky-residue of all that sour candy she eats. 

Huffing he allows his hand to fall the rest of the way into his soft locks, nails already embracing the frayed ends. Combing through the strands, this time he watches what he’s doing, gaze eventually drifting to Flug’s face. 

The sun is streaking through the red-stained panels of his bedroom windows. His pale skin is drenched in glorious shades of warm red, the scar on his left cheek burning chiffon in the center with a blinding outline of bleeding cherries.

Flug asked once why he doesn’t have curtains on his windows. Before he said it was because he doesn’t have to worry about being awoken by the sun, because he doesn’t fall asleep in the first place. And that he likes the panels too much to cover them. 

And sure, those reasons still stand. 

But a new reason literally outshines the old ones. Only in his mind would Black Hat ever admit that he would miss the way the sun’s morning rays skate across the doctor’s skin. It’s a beautiful work of art that would be a shame to cover. 

The way the natural blush darkens his long lashes, and pools into the deep cut above his brow. 

Black Hat loves his scars. The deepest one on his cheek is one of Black Hat’s favorite features about Flug. The scaliness itching at the pad of his thumb when he skims it down the scar is one of his favorite sensations. How it shows a slimmer of the true vileness Flug has inside him, and what he is capable of. A true mark of victory. Black Hat is well aware of the story behind it, and knows the others came out in much worse conditions than the doctor. 

Red is also his favorite color, and it compliments Flug so well. Any variation of the shade on the inventor makes his features pop. 

His own crimson buttoned up shirt looks so good on him right now, swallowing his shoulders and highlighting the porcelain of his skin. 

When he bites him too hard and the deep mahogany bubbles on his shoulder blade, crying down his shoulder and dulling to a cherry. 

Or when he rakes his nails too rough down his back, and beads of crimson erupt from the stark pale lines that are somehow whiter than the man’s skin. 

His brilliant blushing that manages to drench out the red of his scarring, the heat of his perspiration smoking out the rose from his cheek cells even more. 

Any shade of red is lovely on the doctor, really. 

The doctor’s drooling now, lips gaping slightly. HIs saliva glistening heavily on his bottom lip. 

He’d never admit it aloud, usually groaning and shoving Flug off him when he does so when he’s awake, but he finds it cute. And he doesn't know how Flug pulls it off! On anyone else he thinks it’s disgusting, going off onto long tangents wondering why humans can never seem to learn how to control their bodily fluids. 

It’s saliva, it shouldn't at all be adorable! 

Neither should a blasted paper bag! Honestly if Black Hat knew this was where his future lied, well, he’d never believe it. 

Flug’s head thumps farther down his chest, his forehead rubbing their slightly akin to a cat. 

He’s starting to wake up, his mouth closed now. 

At first he was a bit surprised with how much Flug loved to cuddle, seemingly being one to love personal space with how frequent he shoves Demencia away. He only tolerates 5.0.5’s hugs for so long. 

When he brought this up one night, a bit jokingly to tease Flug for his love of cuddling, Flug just had to mess it all up by claiming that it’s different with Black Hat. That he doesn't squeeze too tight, and Flug actually wants his full-on embrace. And how the… feelings are different and lovelier and-AHH!! The doctor made it all so romantic and burned away all the mirth Black Hat held! 

Black Hat was even more surprised, however, when he found himself not bothered by all of it. Instead he craves it! He actually likes his legs between his at night, his foot rubbing into his ankle. His head right under his chin, hair tickling the nape of his neck, and arms squeezing around his neck or torso. 

Or on the rare nights- when Black Hat has had a horrible day- Flug rests his chin above Black Hat’s head, and the exhales from his nose skate down his forehead. 

He may even go as far as to say that he craves it all more than Flug does. He had to agree with Flug on it all, his touch makes his bones ease off his tense skin. The usual torridness surging through him slows to dullness, and takes a longer time to build up when Dementia or someone else interrupts them. The doctor’s skin is like a heating pad, and his smell like a blanket as well. The familiarness to it all, and the scent somehow carrying its own warmth. 

Black Hat pulls the doctor closer, chest tightening, wrapping his empty hand around his abdomen. 

Flug lips thin into a smile, humming and nestling closer into Black Hat’s chest. He scoots himself up to lie underneath his neck more, grin stretching. 

Ah, he’s awake. 

“Good morning darling.” 

Flug turns into his neck, lips dancing around the skin of his neck as he grumbles out a morning. Black Hat only catches some consonants, gathering the vowels a second after the word was spoken. 

Flug turns out of his neck to better be heard, frowning now as his eyebrows scrunch closer together. He squints his eyes, his voice raking up his throat. “What time is it?” 

It’s groggy, and always adorable to hear him reek of exhaustion. Physically he always looks so, but to hear it so apparent in his voice is rare. 

“Six am.” Black Hat states it without pausing, hoping Flug’s tired enough to fall for it. 

Flug hums, a smile wiggling across his face again. “Boss you wish, I can feel the sun on my face.” 

Black Hat grumbles, glaring down at his doctor for somehow being pretty coherent for just waking up. Any other human probably would have fallen for it, or been selfish enough to pretend to. 

Flug groans, limply flipping his body to dig his elbows into Black Hat’s stomach. He rests his weight on them, rising to thrash his head towards the bedside table clock. 

So Black Hat grips his chin, yanking him into a kiss. Flug slams into him, nearly knocking himself out by slamming foreheads with him.   
After the shock passes, Flug simpers around the kiss. 

He breaks the kiss first, rising back down and sitting on Black Hat’s abdomen. He shakes his head at him, some of his hair flopping in front of his face. He glowers at Black Hat. “You know I have morning breath.” 

Black Hat smirks, rising and breathing over Flug’s wet lips. “So do I. I don’t care. And I know you don’t either.” 

Proving his point he locks lips again with his doctor, fangs nibbling into Flug’s bottom lip as softly as he can. 

Flug moans, breaking the kiss again. “Black Hat,” It would have come out sternly if he wasn’t so tired or worked up now. 

Black Hat grins at the sound of his name coming out of Flug’s mouth. 

He rests his palm on the center of Black Hat’s chest. “I have to get up. The catalogue is due to be out by Friday, and the last device I have to complete is still on blueprints. In the mere drafting process!” His words quicken, stumbling into each other. He pops up, eyes widening and snapping the sleep out of them. His chest trembles slightly. “And I have to-!” 

With one hand on the collar of his shirt, Black Hat yanks Flug back down into his chest. His elbow slams into his ribs, and it would have hurt if Black Hat was a mere mortal. 

At least he got him away from seeing the clock. 

“It’s Wednesday Flug. Certainly you can spare a few hours-“

Flug splutters, his head shooting up and pupils boring into Black Hat’s. “-hours?!” 

Black Hat continues, pressing his hand softly down on Flug’s tensing spine, as if he never spoke. “-of lying in bed with me.”

“Sir I can’t.” Again, another mewl instead of a demand. 

“No you can, and you will. As your boss I order you to.” Black Hat glares at him, successfully getting Flug to sag against him. 

He exhales heavily, most of the tension flooding out of his rigid spine. He turns his head in his chest. His cheek moves against his chest bones, like he’s chewing out his next sentence. “Don’t blame me when the device isn't done in enough time to make it in the catalogue.” 

Black Hat rolls his eye. It’s no secret his doctor lacks confidence. “You’ll have it down within twelve hours at the absolute least.” 

Flug tries to get back up, but Black Hat adding pressure from his hand on his back is enough of a sign to get the doctor to remain lying down.

He snorts. “Twleve hours!” The words are strained, and raised in pitch as if he’s asking someone for a confirmation. “I still have to finalize the blue print, then gather all the materials, and then see if it even works!” 

Black Hat nods once, casually stating, “Twelve hours.” 

Flug shakes his head. 

“You’re smarter than you give yourself credit for doctor. I wouldn't have hired you if I didn't think you were capable of giving me the best. Although they aren't always perfect, or functioning, you know I’d rather have someone who gives devotion rather than perfection.” 

Flug stays silent, dumbstruck. Regardless of their relationship, praise is still something the doctor is getting accustomed to hearing. 

He returns his hand to circular motions on his back. “Of course you’ll fret over it if you have extra time, which you will. So you’ll probably pass the twelve hour mark because of that. You’d still be on the first invention I assigned you if I wasn’t there to move you along and tell you it’s finished.” 

The doctor rises to peer up at him, words coming out the clearest they have all morning as he shrugs. “You deserve nothing but absolute perfection sir.” 

Black Hat grins, yanking Flug closer and looking down at him. “That’s right.” Black Hat remains staring at him, the silence thickening around them and… 

Oh… he’s talking about him.

Immediate cherry splashes onto his face. 

Black Hat kisses at a splotch of it on his right cheek, grinning as he feels the hue richening under his lips. 

He pulls his head back down onto his chest, beginning to stroke his hair again. He tugs on the ends of the strands, curling them around his finger. 

The inventor’s lids droop, a loose smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Hm trying to get me to fall back asleep?” His head lolls in the palm of Black Hat’s hand.

“No, succeeding.” He grins, tightening his grip and pulling harder on a hair strand before letting it go. 

Flug’s moan morphs into a huff, cheeks glowing. 

“You were only out for four and a half hours.” 

“That’s enough.” Flug blinks hard, once, attempting to wake himself up. 

“Clearly.” Black Hat narrows his eye at Flug’s drooping lids 

Flug scoots up, nestling into Black Hat’s collar bone. An acceptance to Black Hat’s wants, knowing that there’s no way he’s going to get to the lab. 

Not that he wants to now, anyway. Sudden exhaustion has struck him, and the hands on his head and back are so soothing. 

But at the same time, they’re cold. Not completely frigid, but too much of a heavy compliment to the cold air around him. Nipping at his exposed hands, face, and neck.   
Although he’s gotten used to having his bag off, around Black Hat, he still hasn't fully adjusted to all the air that laps at his skin and stiffens his hairs.

His shoulders shake a little, and he digs them deeper into Black Hat’s chest. He scrunches his hands, holding them near his chest to gather in warmth. 

Huffing at the pathetic display, Black Hat removes his hand from Flug’s head, fishing down his side until he reaches the ebony comforter. In one swift movement he yanks it up over their bodies, and past Flug’s head. Flug laughs, the comforter forcing his head down and pressing his cold nose directly against Black Hat’s chest. 

Black Hat has to grin, Flug’s laugh so giggly and happy. Something that’s rare in itself; his laughter usually maniacal or sarcastic. 

His chest feels clogged again, even worse than before. His laugh still rings, muted slightly from under the sheets. 

It’s just so… cute! It’s not fair! 

It makes his blood thicken, yet it’s not anger. He wants to kiss Flug all over his face. 

It’s unfair how much of an effect he has on him. 

Wait, humans can’t be completely under sheets. He has to breathe; he’ll suffocate! 

He whips the sheet off, twisting them to wrap around his ears. His hair is matted again, full of static and sprawled across the top of the sheets. 

Flug’s laughter dies to inhales, his eyes scrunching as he grins at Black Hat. Pupils shinning as the apples of his cheeks fill a light pink. A look no one should direct at Black Hat. 

He stretches, kissing Black Hat’s cheek shyly before he sinks back down under Black Hat’s chin. Resting his cheek against his chest again, his smile grows lopsided, lids slipping shut. 

Black Hat shuts his eye, tilting his chin deeper into Flug’s hair. The scene is so relaxing that he thinks he’ll actually sleep for once. 

“Mhm love you sir.” It’s slurred, but not enough to where Black Hat has to dissect the sounds to make out his words. 

And then, he’s out. 

Completely out. 

Black Hat’s eye snaps open, jaw tensing. 

He blinks. 

Then blinks again. 

And again. 

“What?” Black Hat exhales, but it’s more of his mouth forming around the words than projecting them. 

The doctors only response is the thin drool he starts to leak onto Black Hat’s chest. 

Well, so much for Black Hat sleeping.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sure there are some errors in this because this is unedited, but regardless I hope you all enjoyed it! 
> 
> For those of who don't know, yes I am continuing to write my fic "Revenge: A Dish Best Served Cold (Because They're Dead)". I'm planning on continuing the small draft I have for the next chapter today :) 
> 
> My Tumblr: paperhattt


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